


To Heal Your Wounds, Both Physical And Not

by afteriwake



Series: nongentorum [51]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awesome Molly Hooper, Doctor/Patient, Gen, Injured Sherlock, Molly Is Patient, Molly is a Good Friend, POV Molly Hooper, Post-Reichenbach, Serious Injuries, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Sherlock Is Not Okay, Sherlock is Alone, Sherlock is a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly goes to help Sherlock when he’s wounded while taking care of Moriarty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Heal Your Wounds, Both Physical And Not

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Day 5 of Molly Hooper Appreciation week (Best Friends Forever). I decided I wanted to write something where Molly went to go help Sherlock while he was wounded for this series with the first sentence used, and there was no better time to post it than this.
> 
> This fic has a translation in Russian by **BestFriendHound** that can be found [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4853359).

“I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

He was slightly delirious with fever from the infection from the bullet wound. He had not wanted to ask for help but she knew it had to have been serious for him to reach out to his brother and for his brother to ask her to leave Barts and go to South Africa to take care of him. And she had arrived not a moment too soon; if it had been another day the infection could have gotten so much worse, could have spread and potentially could have killed him. Oh, the man was an idiot of epic proportions, thinking he could take care of something like this with sloppy stitches and minimal cleaning.

She went to work on undoing the stitches and properly cleaning and disinfecting the wound. She had smuggled in antibiotics and she hoped she had enough and that they were strong enough. She wasn’t about to lose him, not over this. Not when he was trying so hard to save them from the threat Moriarty posed. It was hard work and the moaning and shuddering he was doing distracted her, making her heart ache, knowing she had nothing right now for the pain. Oh, she just wanted to ease his pain, wipe it away and make it all better. If only she could do more than patch him up and send him back into the fray.

Finally, she was done and he was settled. She injected him with the first round of antibiotics, knowing he probably wouldn’t be able to swallow a pill, but she knew he would need water. She went and got a pitcher, filling it with the coldest water she could, and then found a clean glass in the shabby apartment he’d stashed himself in. She took it back to the bed he was on and poured him a glass. “Drink,” she said, propping him up slightly and tipping the glass to his mouth.

Sherlock drank some of the water but more of it dribbled down his chin onto his sweat soaked shirt. It felt like it was nine hundred degrees inside and she wasn’t sure of a way to cool the place other than opening the windows and doors, and she wasn’t sure how safe it was to do so. They would have to suffer the heat together, she supposed. “Thank you,” he said, croaking the words out.

“You know I wouldn’t let you down,” she said, setting the glass down on the table and sitting next to him on his bed, beginning to smooth his hair back. “I am your friend, after all.”

“How long can you stay?” he asked.

“A week,” she said. “Enough to start getting you back on your feet, but that’s all. My colleagues think I’m on vacation in the States.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, settling back into the pillow. “To make you waste our time on me.”

“Don’t be absurd,” she said, almost rolling her eyes. “What you’re doing is important and keeping you alive is also important. I’d do this again in a heartbeat.”

“You may just have to,” he replied.

“Then so be it.”

He lapsed into silence for a moment. “You are too good to me,” he said.

She continued smoothing his hair back, running her fingers through his curls, which were dampened with sweat. “Well, you were idiotic for waiting to call your brother, and I should tan your hide for that,” she replied. “But you _did_ ask for help in the end, so I won’t. But I’ll take care of you as long as I can and make sure you’re as far on the road to recovery as you can be before I have to leave. It’s the least I can do.” She looked around. “How can I cool you down? You have a bit of a fever.”

“Windows,” he said. “It should be safe enough to open them.”

She nodded. “Do you have a washcloth I can wet to put on your forehead as well?”

“There might be one in the kitchen or the washroom,” he said.

“I’ll take a look,” she replied, removing her hand from his hair and getting up off of his bed. She began to rummage around the apartment and found a washcloth that was clean enough, and she wet it and brought it back to him, folding it over and laying it on his forehead. “When you can swallow some pills I have something to reduce your fever.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, looking as though he was on the edge of sleep.

“If you need to rest you can,” she said. “I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Yes, Sherlock,” she said. “I’m sure.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then sat next to him on the bed again, going back to stroking his hair back. Oh, part of her was angry at him for getting himself into this position but the other part of him was grateful that he had asked for help and she was able to. Perhaps while she was here she could help ease some of his loneliness and sadness as well as help heal his physical wounds. If she could hopefully she could leave him in better condition than she had found him in and he’d come back home safely.


End file.
